Two of Hearts
by Scribbler
Summary: Ten points in time. Ten randomly chosen songs. Ten mini fics. Ten pieces of Mickey/Minnie. COMPLETE!
1. Cry For You

**Disclaimer****: **Devotedly not mine.

**A/N****:** Ten random songs. Ten individual time limits. Ten pieces of Mickey/Minnie. Let's see how this pans out, eh?

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_**Two of Hearts**_

© Scribbler, March 2011.

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**1. September – Cry For You **

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Daisy found her out on the balcony, eyes dry in the stiff breeze that blew in off the mountains. She dithered on the threshold, unsure whether to intrude. Was this a time for a friend or a lady-in-waiting?

"It's all right," Minnie said softly. "You've never hesitated around me before."

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" She dragged her eyes from the empty horizon. "It's not your fault."

Daisy didn't have lips, and it wasn't possible for her to chew the bottom half of her beak, but her fingers fiddling constantly with her gown. "I don't know what else to say," she admitted.

"Because there isn't anything." Minnie's smile was sad and resigned and truly, truly awful. "I always knew this might happen. From the moment he first said goodbye to go fight the darkness, I knew this might happen."

"But …" Daisy couldn't finish. "It isn't fair," she said finally. Her Donald would come home with Goofy and the Keyblade Master. All the reports had said they were cutting a swathe through the Heartless forces. They were famously successful; glorious, even. Who could ever have thought her clumsy boyfriend capable of great deeds like that? That was the kin's territory; except that it wasn't now., and never would be again.

_What happens to us all now? _she wondered.

Minnie drew herself up, every inch a queen. Daisy knew when they left the chambers there would be no hint of a grieving widow for her people to see. Disneyland still had a ruler. "No," she conceded. "But who ever said life is fair?"

….


	2. She's a Genius

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**2. Jet – She's a Genius**

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Mickey held the candlestick aloft and peered around the door. The soft glow of a much smaller candle was the only illumination. Floor-to-ceiling books marked the room as the library, although most seemed strewn across the floor or open on the long table. The polished wood was almost completely covered, and where there were no books delicate scrolls lifted and swayed, as if trying to get closer to the tiny heat source.

Mickey approached with caution. He had intruded before when he wasn't wanted. "Minnie?"

She was a hummock of pink fabric at the end of the table. Someone – probably Daisy – had tucked a lacy white shawl around her shoulders. It was the kind of thing Daisy would do. Minnie didn't move, not even when he said her name again.

He crouched beside her. She had sagged across her work, a page still between her fingers, unturned. The edge of the book had waffled her cheek. Her eyelashes curled upwards like little black pencil shavings. He stared at her for a moment, close enough to feel her breath.

Suddenly he recalled the first time he ever saw her across a crowded ballroom when he was seventeen; her awkward in a corset and badly fitting headdress, he even more awkward at being made to dance when he fell over more often than not. They had both changed so much since then, some for the good, some … not so much. Their world had changed, and they had been forced to change with it. Sometimes it was enough to make him wish for the days when his worst trial was trying not to squash his partner's toes during a waltz.

He was aware that he should stay home more; should spend more time with Minnie and less seeking out darkness to fight, but his sense of duty poked and prodded until it overwhelmed his desire to just shut himself up in the castle and stay with her. He convinced himself it was better when he was gone – that he had a higher purpose than being just a husband – until occasionally he could be blindsided by how much he loved her. It smacked into him like a keyblade to the head, the weight of his feelings heavy and unforgiving. Those were the times he thought of fatherhood and the creep of years, until he forced himself to think that this was no time to bring up children, with the Darkness always trying to take over and so many enemies just _looking_ for a weakness to exploit. Just look at Goofy's son, Max. The boy had enrolled in guard training and was already talking about killing Heartless. That was no way to live.

Minnie stirred. She blinked sleepily at him. "What time is it?"

"Time all the good little kings and queens were in bed," Mickey chided. "It's past midnight."

"I was just reading … about some spells … ooh, excuse me." She covered a yawn with her hand. "Nothing useful. All black magic."

"All the more reason for you to go get some sleep in a proper bed."

"I'll try again tomorrow. Maybe I can lighten the magic a little."

She would try, too. She may not go from world to world, or wield a keyblade, but Minnie had her own weapons against the Darkness and wouldn't hesitate to use them to defend her loved ones. In many ways, that made her scarier than the Heartless. They weren't nearly so intelligent.

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	3. Rush Together

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**3. Quietdrive – Rush Together**

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She started running at the top of the stairs.

"Minnie, wait! You'll fall!" Daisy called, but Minnie had already turned the corner and her friend's voice was lost to the spiral staircase. It echoed around her, but she didn't heed it. She _couldn't_. She couldn't stop, or slow down, or even think any slower than the time it took for her speeding heart to go from one beat to the next.

She didn't stumble until the bottom step, when her toe caught in the hem of her gown. The fabric tore, but she didn't care. She rushed headlong, the long rip flapping her skirt around her knees in a very un-queenly way. Queens weren't supposed top show their stockings, but frankly, anybody who objected could go jump off the ramparts.

Pluto strained at his leash as she blew past. The guard could scarcely hold on. Minnie's rush gave the dog the final urge to break free. he took off, pounding at her heels. They were both eager to get outside, to where the familiar glow of an engine had put down. Pluto barked joyously. Minnie had no breath for anything except running.

She ran past the statues of austere ancestors.

She ran down the stone flight of steps.

She ran across the courtyard.

She ran into the rose garden.

She ran down the aisle of wafting rose bushes.

She ran towards the battle-battered gummi ship.

She ran up the barely lowered gangway.

She ran into her husband's arms.

"Did you miss me?" Mickey asked five minutes later when she had finished kissing him.

Minnie wondered whether she would ever, actually, be able to let go without worrying he would disappear again. "Don't ask stupid questions."

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	4. Fight For This Love

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**4. Cheryl Cole – Fight For This Love**

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The darkness swirled around her ankles, somehow glutinous even though she could see it was just mist. It seemed to cling and tug at her dress as if alive. She should have brushed it away, except she didn't want to touch it, plus she was too focussed on following the last threads of light being yanked through it like a vapour trail. She stepped forward, into and then through the black fog, until she reached the other side.

He was on what passed for the ground, facedown and not moving. Cold fear gripped her insides, followed by anger so blistering that if she opened her mouth she would surely breathe fire. The figure towering over him didn't turn, either not sensing the threat of her arrival or not considering her a threat at all.

"Maleficent!"

The figure did turn then. She sneered at the little mouse in the pink dress. Well, why wouldn't she? Being a seven feet tall, green-skinned, world-shattering witch gave you the kind of confidence to think you could yank kings through the darkness, kill them without reprisal and take their world with nobody powerful enough to stand against you. She stood proudly, like a cat that had patiently stalked its prey and was irritated at being interrupted at the crucial moment.

Big mistake. Cats had claws, but mice could scratch just as hard.

"Get away from him," Minnie said.

"Or what?" One side of Maleficent's mouth quirked. She seemed honestly amused.

Minnie set her feet and raised her hands, magic pooling between her palms. "Or you'll be sorry."

"I'm trembling." Maleficent didn't move. "Really."

The power glowed; bright as first light after a long night; more brilliant than the heart of a star. It came from inside and outside, pulled from somewhere the darkness couldn't touch. Maleficent could never understand the power of love, so she could never truly defeat it. The force of Minnie's beat back the swirling shadows.

"You should. Really."

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	5. Nobody Wants to Be Lonely

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**5. Christina Aguilera and Ricky Martin – Nobody Wants to Be Lonely**

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Mickey hunched at the edge of the campfire, a tiny figure made smaller by the way his black coat blended with the flickering shadows. Riku sat up, rubbing the back of his head. He had been catnapping. It wasn't his turn to take watch, but seeing the king staring into the flames like that made sleep fall away like sand shaken off a wooden sword after you finally found where your best friend buried it.

"Your majesty?"

"Nu-uh. Try again."

"Mickey." It didn't get any less bizarre through repetition. Neither did thinking this little mouse could decimate him if he wanted. Probably. Riku looked at his own hands. Even he wasn't sure of his limits anymore. "Is something wrong?"

"Hm?" Mickey finally looked at him. "Nope. All hunky dory." He was smiling, but he usually was. The more they travelled together. The more attuned to those smiles Riku became. This was Smile #43, or Something Is Bothering Me But I'm Not Going To Tell You About It Because I Have An Over-Developed Sense of Kindness and Think You Have Enough Problems of Your Own to Think About and Don't Need to Concern Yourself With My Angst Too. Riku really hated that one.

Riku blew out a breath and came to sit next to the fire. "I may not have done a great impression of it lately, but one thing I do know about being friends is you're supposed to talk out stuff that bothers you. Share worries. A problem shared is a problem halved, right?"

Mickey looked at him, but his eyes were shuttered. For a second Riku couldn't read him. Then he looked away and gave a smile Riku rarely saw: #16, or Okay, You Got Me.

"I'm just … missing home," Mickey said softly. "And the people there."

"I hear that," said Riku.

That strange look again; not judgemental or suspicious, but assessing. Assessing in a really friendly way, but … yeah. The king saw stuff in people that people themselves didn't even realise. Why else had he chosen to believe in a boy who had screwed up on a near-cosmic level? Maybe Riku was apt to map what he thought people _should _think about him onto others when they got into talking about personal stuff. He knew he had screwed up. It was only right that the rest of the universe acknowledge it as painfully as he had.

"I guess you do," Mickey said.

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	6. Sugar Rush

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**6. Cash Cash – Sugar Rush**

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Daisy peered around the door. She nearly jumped out of her feathers when someone tapped her shoulder.

"Donald!" she whispered angrily. "I swear, if you sneak up on me like that again, I _will_ bash you over the head with your own staff."

Donald looked sheepish. Or maybe it was scared. She really would do it, after all. "What's going on?"

"Shhh." Daisy went back to peering. After a moment, he joined her, positioning himself lower on the doorframe and making them into a crude duck version of a totem pole.

"Why is Minnie in the kitchens? It's 6 a.m.!"

"I know." Daisy's chambers were close enough to the queen's that she heard her friend going down the corridor – more specifically, heard her crash into a marble bust in the dark and stop it falling from its plinth. "She snuck down here."

"Why?"

"Why do you think I've been spying on her?" Minnie had been given to some pretty odd behaviour in the time Mickey, Donald and Goofy were away. Daisy had put it down to stress. Now threy were back, however, and she was still doing odd things. Something occurred to Daisy. She squinted down at Donald. "Why are _you_ down here so early?"

"I was mixing potions in the workroom."

"All night?"

"It, uh, took longer than I expected. And I was asleep for part of it."

Ah, that explained his rumpled appearance and slight sulphurous odour. Also, the charred state of his face, neck and shirtfront. Donald's impatience meant his potions often exploded on him when he poured out incorrect amounts or tried to mix powders together too soon.

He shrank backwards. Daisy raised her eyes and did likewise. Minnie was moving towards them. As she got closer, Daisy could finally see what had prompted her to rise early and spend so long in a room she, as queen, wasn't even supposed to go into. Minnie wasn't like other queens, just like Mickey wasn't like other kings. Daisy tried to imagine royalty from neighbouring kingdoms dressing in clothes with more zippers than fabric, running off to fight yellow-eyed shadow monsters, or baking three-tier, pink sugar-frosted 'welcome home' cakes when their beloved finally came home safely from fighting those monsters.

"Donald?"

"Yeah, Daisy?"

"I'm glad you're home too, y'know."

"Aw, Daisy –"

"But we both know my cooking stinks."

"That's okay. Did you miss me?"

"Sure. Who else am I supposed to yell at when I'm stressed?" Daisy smiled, but resolved to follow Minnie's example and find something sweet to do for her guy, too.

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	7. Belle

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**7. Belle – Cast of Beauty and the Beast **

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Minnie clutched her book under her arm and hurried through the square. She hopped over the largest cobbles, since the soles of her shoes were so thin she could feel every lump and bump. She slipped between an ox cart and a flock of sheep brought into town for market day.

"Watch it!" yelled a shepherd.

"Sorry!" Minnie ducked and dodged, always protecting the book. "Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me. Coming through!"

"Look out!"

Someone crashed into her from the side. Minnie tripped. The book slipped through her fingers. She struggled to catch it, stumbled and fell to one knee. The book flew from her grasp – right towards a muddy puddle.

"No!"

That book had cost a month's wages. She worked hard in the magic shop, sweeping, cleaning, serving customers, and even doing the old witch's laundry for extra cash, the odd lesson and a coveted staff discount. She had set the book aside as soon as it came in, promising faithfully to pay for it by the end of the month. The witch who owned the shop had looked at her askance, but agreed. Minnie was a hard worker and had never tried to steal anything, which put her head and shoulders above every previous employee.

Minnie watched as the book headed for the ruinous mud. As if in slow motion, however, someone reached down and grabbed it before it could hit. Her breath escaped in a relived whoosh.

"Thank you!" She scrambled to her feet.

"Love spells?" her saviour read off the front cover. He met her gaze and raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Why not?" she said before she could stop herself. "Everybody needs a little love in their lives."

A small gasp went up from the clumsy shepherd who had knocked into her. Other people also made shocked and dismayed noises. Apparently she was speaking out of turn or something.

Minnie finally registered the guards behind her saviour. He was on a horse, which wore a bridle emblazoned with an insignia like a stylised mouse head. Everyone in Disneyland knew that symbol. Dismay sot through her like she had swallowed a lump of ice. Shop girls, even those with a talent for magic, didn't talk to nobles the way she just had. She raised her eyes once more and recognised the crown prince leaning down, her book still in his hand.

"I couldn't agree more," he said, holding it towards her. "Love is a very good thing to have in life, and we could all use a little more of it."

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	8. Ghostbusters

**A/N:** I'd be lying if I said this segment wasn't influenced by the amazing fanartist Twisted Wind and her Mickey/Minnie steampunk comic, which can be found at twisted-wind (dot) deviantart (dot) com.

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**8. Ghostbusters Theme – Ray Parker Jr.**

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"She went up there alone? And you _let her_?" Mickey pounded up the spiral staircase. His legs were too short to take them two at a time, but he propelled himself faster and faster by grabbing the handrail and hauling himself up in leaps and bounds.

"But Mickey –" Goofy could have easily overtaken, but chose instead to stay behind his king. Right now, however, the tone between them wasn't one of Royal Guard and monarch. Mickey was talking to one of his oldest friends. You didn't sound that angry with your employees unless that had sent the enemy a gold-edged invitation and let down the drawbridge with a welcome mat that read 'Welcome Heartless'.

"Everyone knows that tower is haunted!" Mickey snapped.

"Mick –"

"That's why nobody goes there. _Nobody_!"

"But –"

"I can't believe you knew what she was up to and let her go there anyway."

"Wait a second –"

"When did she go?"

"She was just –"

"An hour?"

"She told me not to tell you –"

"Half an hour?"

"She said it was stupid to waste an entire tower like that –"

"Three hours?"

"Mickey, slow down!"

"Five minutes?"

"Uh, about an hour ago. But Mickey –"

Mickey skidded to a halt outside a tiny door. It was old, studded with metal spikes and draped with chains that had been padlocked in place until recently. The padlock lay on the floor, the last pieces of a powerful binding spell fizzling from it. The door was shut, or had been closed after someone went through. No sound came from inside. Mickey recognised his father's insignia on the padlock. The old king had locked away these spirits when Mickey was just a boy. He had told his son never to unlock the room or open the door, saying that he would unleash terrible monsters if he did. Mickey had cowered under his bedclothes for weeks afterwards. Though he had outgrown his childish nightmares, he had still followed the instructions faithfully – until today.

His keyblade coalesced into his hand. Raw power flowed through him. He booted open the door and landed inside the room in the same step, ready to do battle. "Minnie, where are you?"

"I'm right here." Minnie beamed at him. "I'm glad you're here, Mickey. We were just having tea."

Mickey stared. Goofy appeared in the doorway. He stared too. It was a very stare-worthy scene.

"Mickey, this is Gilbert, Ian, Gabriel and -" Minnie nodded at the last of the glowing figures on the other side of a table lavishly decorated for afternoon tea - "Screechin' Sam."

"Hi."

"Howdy."

"Hey there."

"Wooo!"

The one called Gilbert bopped Screechin' Sam so hard his bowler hat flew off and fell thought the floor. "Numbskull. Remember what the lil' lady said? We'll never be allowed outta this here room if we don't play nice an' act agreeable an' stuff. No more hauntin', y'hear?"

"Ow!" Screechin' Sam clutched his head. Could ghosts feel pain if it was delivered by other ghosts? He looked as far from Mickey's childhood nightmares as was possible to be. "Sorry, Gil. Force of habit."

"Now boys," said Minnie, "you have to play nice with each other, too."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sorry, your highness."

"Yeah, sorry."

"Wooo – uh, I mean … please don't hit me again, Gil. She said you ain't allowed to no more."

Mickey continued to stare. "Minnie?"

"Honestly, Mickey," she smiled, taking another sip of tea. "I don't know why you were so scared of these four. They just need a firm hand and a little kindness, that's all. They're sweethearts, really."

Goofy summed the situation up in one word. "Gawrsh!"

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**A/N:** The ghosts' names are canon, taken from their appearance in _Epic Mickey_ – en (dot) Wikipedia (dot) org (slash) wiki (slash) Epic (underscore) Mickey.


	9. Baby's Tears

….

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**9. Baby's Tears – Riyu Kosaka**

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"Don't worry about a thing, Walter. I'm sure they'll get along famously."

"I don't know, Elias. Maybe I shouldn't leave him –"

"Nonsense. The boy will never recover if you keep mollycoddling him."

"I hardly think wanting to keep him in sight while we're in unfamiliar surroundings is mollycoddling –"

"That's _exactly_ what it is."

"But –"

"You'll be holding his hand next. Imagine, a crown prince holding daddy's hand because he's frightened! It's not the sort of thing a future head of state should indulge in."

"Now that's just –"

"Hand-holding is for nannies and baby girls. A father should always maintain a serviceable distance from his son. It makes boys strong."

"Recent circumstances are extenuating, Elias."

"Exactly the time to start. Distance builds character – it forces boys to think and fend for themselves if they know you won't always be there to bail them out."

"So says the mouse with two daughters."

"I was a son myself, remember. My father never mollycoddled me and I turned out fine. I'll bet your father didn't hover around you all the time, either. Am I right?"

"Yes, but he was king at the time, and distracted by a little thing called _running the kingdom. _Plus, I had a brother to fall back on while he wasn't around. Mickey –"

"You lost your mother early though, as I recall."

"… Yes, that's true."

"Your father maintained that distance afterwards and you're a stronger man today, and a better king for it. Come along now. The children are fine here in the nursery. The nanny is dashedly good, my staff tell me. I'm sure she'll be along in a minute with some lunch or whatnot for the little tykes. Let's sort out those trade agreements before the sun sets, shall we?"

"It's barely noon!"

The door closed, putting a lid on their conversation.

It took a few seconds before anyone broke the silence. The break started with a faint sniffle, which progressed to a quiet sob. Eventually this was followed by the soft pad of footsteps and the swish of a skirt so long its tiny owner kept tripping over it. The owner stood at what felt like a safe distance and watched the little boy, ramrod in a dainty wooden chair, struggling not to let any tears escape.

"Why are you crying?" she asked eventually.

"I'm not!"

"Okay, why are you lying about not crying?"

"I'm not crying!"

"Do you have hay-fever?"

This seemed to flummox him. "N-No."

"Oh." She thought for a moment. "Are you allergic to that cleaning stuff they use to mop floors?"

"No."

"Do you have allergies?"

"No."

"Have you been sneezing?"

"No."

"Are you happy?"

"No."

"Then you're crying. Why?"

The little boy stared, her logic quick-fire and indestructible, the way young children's so often is. He sniffed; a wet sound that demanded a hankie. She immediately handed him one, embroidered in the corner with a delicate 'M' and a rosebud. He blew his nose, stared at the letter and dropped his gaze to the floor.

He wished Father was there, but maybe it was better he had left. The king had been so distant since the accident. All he did these days was work, work, work, leaving little time for grief to creep up on him – or any time for his son. It was almost like he cared more about his royal duties and kingdom than what happening to Mickey. Even this play-date was because of business; not because he thought Mickey would actually enjoy spending the day with Duke De Maris's youngest daughter. Out of sight, out of mind, or something like that.

"You look like a month of wet Sundays," the girl in question said. "You look like you need sugar." She went to the small cupboard he has presumed was part of a play-set and brought out a plate of cookies studded with chocolate chips.

"Are those real?"

"Of course. It would be bad manners to serve a sad person fake cookies. Here." She shoved one at him. "Eat. You'll feel better. I always feel better after a cookie." She leaned close. "My nanny is supposed to make sure I don't eat too many, so I don't get sick, but she has a boyfriend below stairs, so she's never around long enough to count them, so you having one won't make any difference."

Mickey looked at the cookie in his hand. He was suddenly struck by a memory so clear and sharp it cut deep into his brain, right down his spinal column, until it reached his heart. He remembered frantically telling Oswald to hurry, while also trying to keep him from teetering off his shoulders as they raided the cookie jar in the palace kitchens.

"_Don't worry, Mickey,"_ eight-year-old Oswald had said, twitching his long black ears back and forth. _"These babies can hear a pin drop from five miles away. We're safe as houses. Now quit squirming or you'll make me – whoa! Whooooooaaaa!"_

Oswald had broken his arm when Mickey's knees buckled and the pair of them bounced off the floor and into the cold fireplace. Father had been so mad when he found out, until Mother calmed him down …

The cookie of the present fragmented like broken glass as fresh tears sprang into Mickey's eyes. He clutched the hankie. Boys didn't cry. They _didn't_ cry. They didn't _cry. _They didn't –

"Hush now," said the Duke's daughter, taking the hankie and wiping his face like someone much older than six and a half. He didn't even know her name, but she was touching him so freely and practically. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Mickey shook his head. Something about her made him want to speak. "Two months ago, there was a carriage accident. My mother … my brother … they were coming back from … they didn't make it home …"

She sat and listened without comment, hands folded in her lap. The cookie went soft. The air hummed with history being written.

On the wall, a tiny cuckoo clock chimed the hour.

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	10. Puppy Love

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**10. Puppy Love – Celtic Thunder**

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Minnie knew from the moment she woke up that morning that Mickey wasn't going to be there by the time she went to bed that night. It wasn't anything he said, she just knew. She always knew.

The worst part was that she understood. She couldn't be angry at him. That would be irrational: _How dare you go off and try to save the multiverse. I want someone to wake up to every morning! I want someone in the throne next to mine. I want someone to help make the tough decisions in running a kingdom. I want you to stay with me. I want you. _

She went about her duties without reproach. When Mickey retired early and didn't return, she didn't comment or send servants to find him. She signed off on a royal proclamation; tended to a trade agreement that had been lurking under a mound of paperwork, and answered three RSVPs to parties she didn't want to attend but had to anyway. When her stomach growled she could have sent for food to be brought to the study she shared with Mickey when he was around. Instead, she stared at his empty side of the desk, set down her pen and went to the kitchens herself.

Queens were supposed to like expensive, lavishly prepared foods with unpronounceable names. Minnie made herself a jam sandwich, took a pitcher of strawberry cordial out to the garden and sat amongst roses the same colour as her drink. She ate quietly and spent a while picking crumbs off her skirts. When she was sure she was alone, she unobtrusively took out her hankie and cried.

_Please be safe,_ she thought. _Please be careful. Please come home. Please come back to me._

"I miss you already," she whispered.

Something rustled in the bushes. A small yellow bullet shot out, bounded up and landed on her chest. Minnie flew backwards off her seat and stared up at the … puppy?

"What -?" she started.

Mickey puffed up behind the puppy, clutching a leash that had snapped in the middle. "I know you get lonely when I'm away, so I thought …" He trailed off. For a mouse who had a way with words, he still got tongue-tied around his young wife. "Um, his name's Pluto."

"You got me a _dog_?" Incredulity crept into her voice, raising its pitch. She had duties to attend. Work was all that kept her sane while he was away: protecting the castle, keeping on top of daily responsibilities, dealing with obligations that came part and parcel with being ruler.

"Daisy said you drown yourself in work while I'm gone." Mickey sounded apologetic. "I just thought this would be better …" He stopped. Dropped his gaze. Scuffed his feet in a very unkingly way. "I miss you already, too," he finished softly.

Minnie sniffed. Smiled. Put her hand up to stroke the dog sitting on her chest and laughed as he instead licked off all her tears. It wasn't the same, but it was a promise, of a sort. Kings and queens usually gave each other jewellery to signify promises like this. Of course Mickey gave her a beating heart to care for and love, and to love her back unconditionally until he returned and could do that himself. "You have to come home and do your share of walkies."

Mickey grinned. "Deal."


End file.
